A Cultural Experience

The invitation in our mailbox read:  Your adored Auguste has the pleasure to invite you to the inauguration of the restaurant on February 22, 2017 beginning at 7pm.  At the honor, local products from the region.  Long live sausage, red [wine] and long live France.

"The only weapon that interests me is the corkscrew."

Jordan and I both thought it would be a good thing to attend.  After all, our boycotting of this restaurant below our house will not close their business and allow us more sleep, so we may as well embrace it.  About an hour before the inauguration I sent a text message to our neighbor asking if she was going to go.  "I didn't know there was anything happening," she replied. "Besides, my boyfriend isn't home [to help with the kids] and I don't have any money, so I can't go."

No money?  I thought.  What does that have to do with it?

"Oh," I responded.  "We received the invitation in our mailbox, so I assumed you did, too.  And I don't think it will cost anything.  But inaugurations don't exist in the United States, so I don't know anything.  I guess we'll see!"

She again replied saying that her boyfriend, who has worked in the restaurant business for years, said that usually you're expected to buy a drink.  OK, we thought.  Good to know.  We don't know what to expect exactly, but at least it will be an interesting cultural experience.

Jordan and I timidly walked down our stairs, noticed the posted sign that read "by invitation only" and entered the packed bistro.  The owner quickly greeted us.  "Thanks for the invitation," we said shaking hands.  "We've only ever participated in an inauguration with a church.  We don't really know about inaugurations for restaurants," we admitted.  He smiled and explained that he wanted to simply invite some of his close friends and local vendors from Aix-les-Bains, to keep it rather small.  "Come on in and have a drink," he said, pointing to the cocktail bar, the wine bar, and the standard restaurant bar.  In the middle of the room was a large table filled with bread, cheeses, and charcuterie.  Servers walked around with hors d'oeuvres.  It was totally free and totally French.

There were probably about 75 people present, coming in and out throughout the evening.  We only recognized a handful of faces (one a local shop owner, one lady who works for the community center, one person who works for the mayor's office, another important person who was at a book release party for a friend), but we knew no one personally.  And besides the brief conversation with the owner of the restaurant, no one spoke with us.  It was a little strange, yet we enjoyed ourselves and were glad that we went.  We felt privileged.

And it was most definitely a [good] cultural experience.